The plan was incredibly dangerous, but it was the only way to draw the Romanov syndicate out of the shadows.

Norah returned to the corporate headquarters the very next morning, projecting an aura of complete, unbothered confidence.

She was not alone, however; the building was secretly packed with Vincent’s most lethal men posing as security guards and office staff.

Vincent himself was in the tactical control room three floors below, watching her every move through the building's hidden camera network.

Norah sat in the exact same boardroom, leaving the financial documents spread across the table as bait.

At exactly noon, the heavy glass doors opened, but it was not Enzo who walked into the room.

A tall, sophisticated man in a bespoke gray suit stepped inside, smiling with a terrifying, hollow charm.

He looked strangely familiar, sharing the same sharp cheekbones and dark, calculating eyes as Vincent.

"You must be the famous Norah," the man purred, closing the boardroom doors behind him and locking them.

"I am Julian Rossi, Vincent’s estranged cousin from the West Coast, and the true heir to this entire syndicate."

Norah did not flinch, she simply leaned back in her leather chair, resting her hands calmly on the table.

"You changed the spelling of your last name to hide from him, Julian, that doesn't make you an heir, it makes you a coward," Norah countered sharply.

Julian’s hollow smile completely vanished, his dark eyes flashing with sudden, violent anger.

He stepped closer to the table, pulling a small, silver suppressed pistol from the inner pocket of his tailored jacket.

"Vincent stole my birthright, he took the East Coast empire that my father built, and now I am taking it back," Julian hissed.

"I siphon your money to buy the loyalty of his capos, and now I will take his beloved wife to break his spirit completely."

He aimed the silver weapon directly at Norah’s chest, completely unaware that his death warrant had just been signed.

"You shouldn't have locked the door, Julian," Norah said softly, not looking at the gun, but at the glass wall behind him.

Before Julian could even process her words, the reinforced glass wall of the boardroom shattered inward in a massive, glittering explosion.

Vincent stepped through the falling glass like an absolute demon walking out of hell, a heavy combat shotgun gripped tightly in his hands.

He did not hesitate, he did not speak, he simply drove the heavy wooden stock of the weapon directly into Julian’s face.

Julian collapsed to the floor, his silver pistol skittering across the smooth tile as blood poured from his broken nose.

Vincent placed his heavy Italian leather shoe firmly on Julian’s chest, pointing the barrel of the shotgun directly down at his cousin's face.

"You touch my money, I forgive you," Vincent whispered, his voice vibrating with pure, murderous intent.

"You point a gun at my wife, I erase you from existence."